


Wayward Brothers

by Aini_NuFire



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate World, Brotherly feels, Cas is so done, Gen, Humor, Hurt Castiel, Hurt Gabriel (Supernatural), Hurt/Comfort, Misadventures, Protective Castiel, Protective Gabriel, Season/Series 12, gabriel is a pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2019-07-29 22:56:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16274087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aini_NuFire/pseuds/Aini_NuFire
Summary: Gabriel’s pocket dimension goes screwy and he and Castiel end up in an alternate universe, stranded, and trying to find their way home. Cue wayward brother adventures.





	1. Episode 1: Ye Gods!

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is gonna be a little different. It's got five chapters, but I wrote each chapter like an individual "episode" for this little arc. Takes place season 12 and is obviously AU because Gabriel was never Asmodeus's prisoner.
> 
> Disclaimer: Not mine. Thanks to 29Pieces for beta reading!

 

"Are you ever going to forgive me?"

"No."

Gabriel huffed. "How many times do I have to say, I didn't  _mean_  for this to happen."

Castiel shot him a sharp glower from where he was sitting in a grumpy slouch at the table. "That's the problem, Gabriel," he practically spat. "You don't think about the consequences of your actions."

Gabriel crossed his arms. "You know, I didn't  _have_  to come out of retirement to help you track down Lucifer's unborn kid."

And therein lied the reason they were in this predicament. How was he to know the nephilim's power could be so potent from the womb? When Gabriel had tried to trap the flighty Kelly Kline in a pocket dimension, the baby's defense mechanisms must have kicked in, because there was a surge of gold in the mortal woman's eyes before Gabriel's pocket dimension had turned into a raging vortex—and sucked him and Castiel through into a completely alternate universe.

At least, that was their best guest given they had gone back to the Men of Letters bunker only to find it locked up and dusty, as if no one had set foot inside for decades. Plus the Winchesters' cell phone numbers were going to Jeff the plumber and some woman named Yasmin who was offering twofer specials. Castiel had hung up before Gabriel could get the details on what kind of twofer.

And now said angel was sulking, which wasn't going to improve their situation.

"I don't know why you showed up after all this time anyway."

Honestly, Gabriel was beginning to question that, too. All he'd gotten since his reemergence was disdain and distrust. Where was the gratitude?

"Look, let's just head up to Heaven and wrangle some angel power to help send us back," he said.

Castiel flicked an irritated look at him. Seriously, how had seven years not removed the stick from up his ass?

"Fine."

He stood up, shoulders held rigidly as he waited expectantly. Right, kid's wings were broken.

Gabriel stepped closer and reached out to clasp Castiel's shoulder, then flapped his own massive wings to launch them toward Heaven.

But instead of landing in the great hall like Gabriel had planned, he slammed into a solid wall. A concussive whomp of power reverberated at the impact, flinging Gabriel and Castiel back down to Earth like a set of comets. Gabriel frantically tried to regain his flight trajectory, but every nerve ending had been jolted and his grace was buzzing with foreign squiggles of electricity. He plummeted through the air, unable to slow his descent as he crashed into a field hard enough to carve a deep trough through the soil. The ground shook once, then twice when Cas landed a split second behind him.

Gabriel smashed through the dirt before finally coming to a dazed stop, and he lay in the field for several moments, blinking up at the sky as white spots danced across his vision. What in Dad's name was that?

He pushed himself upright with a groan and looked around. There was a jagged furrow in the field a few feet from the one he'd carved, and he crawled over to find Castiel laying inside it, hair disheveled and coat smeared with dirt.

"Well, that didn't work," Gabriel commented.

Castiel glowered at him and struggled to sit up. "Heaven must be sealed." He paused as he staggered to his feet. "I wonder if Metatron still managed to cast the angels out of Heaven in this world." His gaze turned distant with a haunted memory.

"I never liked that smarmy weasel," Gabriel said.

Castiel's glare sharpened. "Yes, well, you didn't show your face when that was going on in our world."

Gabriel rolled his eyes. So much ingratitude. He'd been lucky to have been hiding on Earth when all that went down; otherwise, he could have ended up losing his wings, too. And then with the angel factions banding together and declaring war on each other…it was Gabriel's worst nightmare. Of course he didn't want to get involved.

"You got any suggestions for a Plan B?" he snipped.

Castiel turned in a half circle to survey where they'd landed. "I wonder where the Winchesters are."

Gabriel groaned. "Of course you do."

Castiel snapped a fiery glower at him. "They might be able to help us. If the angels did fall, the Winchesters probably know all about it."

"Yeah, well, they're not at their cozy home base, so where do you suggest we look?"

"Sioux Falls. And if they're not there, Bobby Singer might still be alive, and he might know how to contact them."

Gee, didn't that sound like a barrel of monkeys. But, unfortunately, Gabriel didn't have a better suggestion at the moment. He tuned his senses to the cosmos and realized they had landed back in Kansas, but fifty miles from the Men of Letters bunker. And his grace was still raw from crashing into that power barrier, so flying again wasn't an option at the moment. Actually…

Gabriel stiffened. "You feel any different?" he asked.

Castiel rolled his shoulder. "Sore."

"No, I mean…I don't feel connected to Heaven. I'm running on pure battery."

Castiel just looked at him blandly for an extra beat. "We're cut off," he finally said, though he didn't sound surprised or alarmed.

Oh, this day just kept getting better and better.

Castiel started making his way out of the field.

Gabriel hurried after him. "Whoa, did you hear me? With my powers on limited reserves, I might not be able to recreate a pocket dimension to connect to a rift."

"You wouldn't be able to on your own, anyway. That was the nephilim's power."

They stumbled out onto a road. Castiel looked up and down both directions before picking one and heading that way.

"We're just gonna  _walk_  to Sioux Falls?" Gabriel demanded.

"We'll have to procure a vehicle," Castiel replied. "Don't worry, I know how to steal a car and drive one." He flicked a sidelong look at Gabriel. "I'm used to operating at decreased power."

Gabriel huffed. Well, good on him. But  _Gabriel_  wasn't used to it. Could things get any worse?

They walked for a couple of miles before coming upon a small town where Castiel did, in fact, steal them a car. Then they drove to South Dakota. It was a long, tedious drive with Castiel giving Gabriel the silent treatment the entire way.

To add insult to injury, they had just rolled into Sioux Falls when the car sputtered to an ungainly halt. Cas managed to pull it over to the curb just before it gave out completely.

Gabriel lolled a dry look at him. "Know all about human cars, huh? Miss the lesson on them needing gas to run?"

Castiel's jaw tightened. "The gauge says it has a quarter of a tank." He sighed. "It must be incorrect."

"You think?"

Castiel shot him a baleful look before pushing his door open and climbing out, leaving Gabriel little choice but to follow.

"We can walk the rest of the way," Castiel said.

"And we're back to walking."

"Unless you can fly again."

Gabriel tentatively tested his wings, but they were still smarting from that crash landing. "Erg, not yet."

"Then we walk."

Castiel strode off down the sidewalk, and Gabriel had to jog to catch up.

"These boots were made for walking," he sing-songed under his breath.

"I would think 'Hit the road Jack' would be more your tune."

Gabriel arched a brow in astonishment that Cas even knew that song. Before he could come up with a retort, a woman came rushing up toward them.

"Lord Loki!" she gushed.

Gabriel blinked. "Uh, do I know you?"

She ducked here gaze demurely. "I wouldn't presume your magnificence would know my name, but I have been a devout worshipper my entire life."

"Um, okay."

This was weird.

He glanced around awkwardly, and noticed everyone was stopping in their tracks to stare at him.

"Lord Loki!" someone else exclaimed.

"We should leave," Castiel said quietly.

But as the accolades starting pouring in, Gabriel puffed his chest out. "What's the rush?" He flashed a beaming grin at the growing crowd, causing a few titters among the females. "Looks like my alternate self has made more of a public persona for himself."

He waved to some of his adoring fans. Oh, he could get used to this.

"Are you heading to your temple?" someone asked.

His temple? Wow, his alternate self had major chops.

"Of course," he replied cheerily.

"Gabriel," Cas growled under his breath. "We don't have time for this."

Gabriel waved a dismissive hand at him. "We have all the time in the world. To my temple!" he declared.

People eagerly turned and started heading down a side street, so Gabriel followed. Castiel looked fit to explode, and hung back for a few beats before finally storming after them.

They walked a few blocks before arriving at an opulent building that looked like a fancy hotel with maybe a penthouse at the top. Inside was decked out in Norse decor that looked more like the original Loki's taste, but whatever. It was probably all about image.

Gabriel sauntered inside, enjoying the shocked looks from those within that quickly turned to reverent bows and offers to get him anything. This was better than his life of retirement back home.

He spotted a throne set against the back wall and moseyed on over to it. An attendant immediately appeared with a glass of amber liquid.

Gabriel seated himself on the throne and took a sip of the drink, crinkling his nose. "Ugh, this tastes like you got it from the Middle Ages."

The attendant faltered. "But, it's your customary drink…"

Gabriel frowned, but quickly recovered. "Right, of course. Just testing you." He cocked a finger gun at the guy, who gave a nervous laugh and then hurriedly backed away.

Castiel remained standing by the front door, glowering furiously.

Gabriel craned his neck around to look for that attendant. "Hey, you got any candy?"

The elevator dinged a moment before the doors slid open, and three figures stepped into the lobby-turned-temple. Gabriel immediately recognized them.

"Fellas!" he greeted.

Sleipnir, Narfi, and Fenrir all gazed at him curiously.

"Father. We weren't expecting you."

Gabriel quirked a confused brow. They couldn't tell who he was? He hesitated, suddenly realizing that he didn't actually know enough about this world, though he was good at winging it.

He shrugged. "Can't I surprise my boys?"

They narrowed their eyes at him. Gabriel tried not to shift uneasily.

Then Narfi's blew wide. "Angel," he hissed.

Gabriel sighed. "Yeah, okay, you got me. But we're all friends here, right?"

The three demigods surged forward. Gabriel sprang up from the throne just as Castiel jumped to his defense, angel blade dropping into his hand. Gabriel didn't draw his; he merely raised a hand and snapped his fingers, intending to stick the soles of their shoes to the tile. Except, that didn't happen, and the demigods kept coming.

Sleipnir and Fenrir grabbed his arms to restrain him while Narfi whirled toward Castiel. Gabriel tried to throw them off, and was surprised by how  _strong_  they were. Definitely more than typical demigod grade.

Castiel raised his blade to strike, but Narfi swung an arm up to block, catching Castiel's wrist and wrenching his arm behind his back until it cracked. Cas grunted, and then Narfi ripped the blade from his hand and twirled it up and around to lay against Castiel's neck.

"Definitely angel," he snarled, eyeing the blade. "What are you doing on Earth?"

Castiel furrowed his brow. "Are angels not often on Earth?"

Narfi barked out a laugh. "Where have you been? Angels haven't left Heaven in centuries."

Castiel threw a bewildered look at Gabriel.

Crap, what kind of world had they fallen into?

"We're not from around here," Castiel said carefully.

"And we were just leaving," Gabriel chimed in, trying to tug himself free, but Sleipnir and Fenrir held firm. What the hell were they juicing?

The demigods snarled at him.

"Think Heaven is plotting against us?" Fenrir growled.

"It'd be foolish, but how else to explain these infiltrators?" Sleipnir responded. "And trying to masquerade as one of us. Where is the real Loki?" He gave Gabriel a sharp shake.

"I don't know! Listen, guys, we're from an alternate world, one where your dad and I are actually good pals."

"Lies," Fenrir hissed. "Loki killed dozens of angels in the revolt. He would never befriend one."

"Revolt?" Castiel repeated.

Narfi angled a suspicious look at him. "When the pagans banded together and overthrew the Judeo-Christian religious sects. Heaven sealed up the pearly gates to protect itself."

Gabriel's jaw went slack with stupefaction. "Get real," he sputtered. "The pagan deities could never agree on anything long enough to stage an all-out war against Heaven."

Sleipnir lifted his chin smugly. "We did. And this world has been ours ever since."

Gabriel swallowed hard. Maybe this place wasn't looking so shiny after all…

"Look," he tried again. "We really did fall into this world by accident, and just want to get home. So if you let us go—"

"Lies," Fenrir spat again.

Gabriel shot him a dark look. "Down, doggie."

"We'll take them to the Pantheon," Narfi announced. "If Heaven is planning to move against us, we need to divine their plans." He pressed the angel blade harder against Castiel's skin in emphasis of his meaning.

This really wasn't going well at all…

Gabriel wasn't keen on this next move, but they were desperate. Mustering his grace, he snapped his head up, eyes blazing blue as he unleashed a burst of power. Sleipnir and Fenrir were flung away, and the concussive force slammed into Narfi and Castiel as well, throwing them to the floor.

Castiel immediately rolled away from the demigod and gained his feet. Narfi tried to jump up, but Castiel delivered a punch that knocked his head back into the tile hard enough to crack it. He then snatched his angel blade back and spun toward the other two, who were now getting up.

Gabriel summoned his blade from the ether, but that little show of power had left him winded more than he expected, and he had to stop to catch his breath.

Sleipnir yanked a battle axe off the wall. It may have been decoration, but the edge glinted as sharp as any weapon of function. He leaped toward Castiel, who ducked to the side and pivoted around with a slash of his angel blade. He cut a score along Sleipnir's hip, drawing a roar from the demigod.

Fenrir charged Gabriel and he danced away, stumbling instead of gliding with his usual grace. He still lashed out with his blade. Fenrir jumped back to avoid getting sliced. They paced around each other in a half circle. Gabriel switched to an overhanded grip.

"I don't actually want to kill you. Despite the fact you cheat at cards."

Fenrir gnashed his teeth and leaped again. Gabriel pranced away, spinning around to drive his blade into Fenrir's back. He stabbed him high in the shoulder, eliciting a howl. Fenrir staggered away, and Gabriel turned back toward where Cas was still fighting Sleipnir. The scrappy angel had gotten several hits in, but the demigod wasn't as weakened as Gabriel would have expected him to be.

Time to blow this joint.

Gabriel's grace was still quivering, but he ran forward and grabbed Castiel's arm, spreading his wings and leaping into the ether. He only flew them outside to the back alley, landing with a slight jolt.

Castiel stumbled in surprise.

"Let's get out of here," Gabriel said darkly.

Without another word, they turned and hurried down the next street, not slowing down until they'd put a few blocks between them and the very pissed off demigods.

Gabriel lumbered to a halt and leaned over to put his hands on his knees.

Castiel stopped and turned to look back at him. "Are you all right?"

"Oh yeah. I love a good brawl." He straightened, unwilling to admit how rattled he actually was by this world and how history had apparently played out. "We, uh, can go look for the Winchesters now."

He half expected an 'I told you so' or pointed glare, but Cas's expression had turned contemplative.

"If Heaven was defeated long ago, then the Apocalypse wouldn't have been orchestrated. Heaven wouldn't have intervened to ensure the Winchester line made it to Sam and Dean."

Gabriel paused. Meaning Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum might never have been born. And even though Gabriel hadn't put much stock in those two being able to help them hop dimensions, he couldn't deny that the Winchester brothers had accomplished the impossible in their own world. If they weren't around…well, suddenly things seemed a tad more darker.

"We might as well go check for sure," Gabriel said.

Castiel wordlessly started walking again, both of them on guard as they made their way through the city and to the outer skirts toward Singer Salvage. There was a plot of land in the distance with lots of metal glinting in the sunlight, so Gabriel felt a flicker of hope.

Except, when they got closer, he saw not junk cars, but loads and loads of statues ranging from ceramic to granite, and a sign advertising "Roy's Norse and Germanic Statues For Sale."

Well…crap.

"Doesn't mean the Winchesters aren't out there," Gabriel offered.

Castiel's shoulders slumped dejectedly. "Even if they are, they might not even be hunters. I'm afraid we're on our own."

Gabriel turned his gaze back toward the city limits, seemingly normal from this distance. But it was clear that this strange new world was not gonna be a walk in the park.


	2. Episode 2: The New World Order

Castiel set the last candle in place around the edges of the summoning circle, and then lit the bundle of herbs over one of the flames. This was probably a long shot, but he and Gabriel had no other options at this point. If Heaven was closed, reapers probably couldn't get in and out, but Death would be able to. However, Castiel was uncomfortable summoning that entity directly—if he wasn't still sealed himself since the Apocalypse never started. In which case, this entire exercise was most likely futile. Still, they had to try.

Gabriel stood back a few feet, arms crossed and not helping. Castiel ignored him. It was his fault they were in this mess. After years of letting everyone think he was dead, Gabriel had suddenly swooped in like he was the hero they'd all been waiting for. Of course, he just ended up making things worse. Gabriel was no hero; he was a deserter. Castiel didn't know why he'd bothered coming back at all.

Castiel said the incantation that would summon a reaper, and then stepped back to wait. It didn't take long for one to appear in the circle, dressed in jeans and a brown leather jacket instead of their customary formal attire. He looked around the abandoned warehouse, nose wrinkling with disdain.

"What do you want?" he asked harshly.

Castiel took a step forward. "We need passage into Heaven."

The reaper barked out a laugh. "Heaven? Don't waste my time."

"We know it's closed," Castiel pressed. "But you must have a back way in. Or…perhaps Death would have access…"

The reaper narrowed his eyes at Castiel, then Gabriel. His brows rose sharply. "You're halos."

"Er, yes," Castiel said.

"And apparently we're on the wrong side of the pearly gates," Gabriel put in impatiently. "So can you give us a lift or not?"

The reaper regarded them shrewdly for a long moment. "Sure," he finally said, taking a step closer and holding out his hands.

Castiel exchanged a look with Gabriel. It was strange not being greeted with hostility and biting hatred. Apparently, the Castiel in this world hadn't made a name for himself as the destroyer, and it seemed Gabriel hadn't become the Trickster, either.

Castiel turned back to the reaper. "Thank you."

He and Gabriel moved closer and let the reaper take hold of their shoulders, and then they were swept into a swirling vortex, not the ethereal currents that angels flew through, but a darker void between planes reserved for those who passed between life and death. It was suffocating to Castiel, but thankfully didn't last very long.

However, instead of coming out in a smooth landing, he was suddenly flung forward. He fell out of the void and crashed into a rock wall in a darkened chamber. Gabriel landed beside him with an oomph. Castiel instantly felt the oppressive pressure of warding, and hurried to push himself upright. There was a groan of metal, and he looked over in time to see the reaper slam an iron door shut. They'd been tossed in a cell.

"What is this?" Castiel demanded as he scrambled to his feet.

The reaper smirked at them. "I don't know where you two pansies came from, but angels are going to make me a very nice profit on the auction block."

"Auction block?" Castiel gripped the bars of their prison. "What are you talking about?"

The reaper just grinned. "You'll see." And with that, he turned and strode away.

Castiel gave the bars a rough yank, but they were firm. He spun toward Gabriel. "Are your wings capable of any flight?"

The Trickster's mouth was pressed into a flat line. "Not with this warding." His eyes roved over their prison with a constipated look.

Castiel furled his hands into fists. He should have mistrusted the reaper's readiness to help them. Things were so different in this world; Castiel should have assumed everything about the natural order would be changed somehow. Now they were stuck biding their time until they could find a way to escape—or at least learn what was going on.

It wasn't long before the reaper returned with four others in tow. They were carrying manacles and chains, and Castiel could see the sigils etched into the metal. He braced himself to fight back, but just as one of the reapers opened the door, the one who'd brought them here shot his palm up. With a flash of light, Castiel and Gabriel were thrown back against the wall and pinned.

Castiel's chest burned with exertion as he struggled against the invisible force, but he couldn't move. Even with the warding on the cell, the reaper should not have possessed this kind of power. Just like the pagan deities they'd encountered shouldn't have possessed the measure of strength they did.

The reapers moved in and snapped the manacles around the angels' wrists and ankles. A chain linked those together, locking their arms in front and pulled down. The chain between their fetters restricted their range of movement to a stumbling shuffle as they were yanked from the wall and hauled out of the cell. Castiel tried to get a sense of their location as they were dragged down a dark corridor, but he couldn't get a read on anything.

Noise filtered down from a passage up ahead, multiple voices shouting short clipped outbursts one right after the other. Then there was the sound of a dull thud, like a hammer striking wood. Castiel squinted against the bright torch light as he and Gabriel were brought into the chamber. It was full of people—well, not humans. Castiel spotted several demons, and even more entities with signatures that felt more like pagan deities. They were crowded in the center of the chamber, all facing a platform set against the back where a reaper in a suit stood at a podium holding a gavel.

"Next up, a bundle of fifty righteous souls," the reaper announced, and another brought up a glass container swirling with the pure light of human souls. "There's even a virgin or two in here," he went on. "Who would like to start off the bidding?"

"Ten gold bricks!"

"Twenty!"

"The Mona Lisa!"

Castiel could only stare, slack jawed. This was much more horrific than he could have imagined. Righteous souls should have been destined for Heaven. But Heaven was closed…and instead of the souls being trapped in the Veil for eternity, the reapers had apparently come up with another way to deal with them. Was this how the pagans had become so powerful even after all these centuries?

He glanced at Gabriel, who looked just as flabbergasted as Castiel felt.

The gavel struck the podium, startling him. "Sold! For the Acathe Grimoire."

The container of souls was removed from the stage, and then Castiel and Gabriel's captors were tugging them forward. Castiel tripped on the steps up to the platform, and gritted his teeth as he was shoved into the center to be put on display.

"This is a rare item, folks," the auctioneer said with a grin. "Two angels, fallen from the sky. More powerful than a hundred human souls. Shall we start the bidding off for the short one at…two hundred?"

"Two hundred?" Gabriel repeated, sounding affronted.

"Two hundred!" someone shouted.

"Two-fifty!"

"A magic carpet!"

"Are you joking?" Gabriel sputtered. "I could whip one of those up like candy."

The auctioneer arched a brow. "Hear that, folks? Buy an angel, get a magic carpet free. I think this one's worth something more rare and valuable."

"Excalibur!"

Gabriel rolled his eyes and scoffed. "Puhleeze. That rusty old sword? That no one can use but Arthur?"

"Thor's Hammer!"

Gabriel paused. "Oh, now that's interesting…"

"Gabriel," Castiel snapped under his breath. How could he find anything amusing about this? They needed to get  _out_  of here. …But with how powerful all these entities were with the souls in their possession, escape was seeming less and less possible.

"The Apple of Discord!"

"One hundred thousand souls," a new voice with a deep accent boomed over the crowd.

The din silenced and all heads turned. Through the parting throng, Castiel spotted a man in a white suit with a grizzly beard and scarred face. His eyes flashed yellow. "For both of them."

"Uh-oh," Gabriel murmured.

Oh,  _now_  he was worried. But Castiel couldn't help the lump that started constricting his throat with apprehension. That demon…it had been years since Castiel had seen one of his kind, and only from a distance. He was a Prince of Hell.

There was a pregnant pause in the chamber before the auctioneer cleared his throat and banged his gavel. "Sold!"

"No," Castiel growled as his arms were seized and he was manhandled from the platform.

He and Gabriel were dragged from the chamber as the next item came up for auction. They were forced down another dark corridor and into a separate room with crates and boxes in the middle of being packed. The demon in the white suit strode in from another door a few moments later, a canister glowing with souls in his hands. His eyes gleamed hungrily as he looked Castiel and Gabriel up and down.

"Pleasure doing business with you, Asmodeus," the reaper who'd captured them said, taking possession of the canister.

"Oh yes," the demon drawled with a heavy southern accent. "You two boys are mighty fine prizes."

Castiel clenched his jaw. He wasn't a prize, or an object to be bartered.

Gabriel puffed his chest out. "You listen here," he started.

Asmodeus backhanded him across the face so hard the slap reverberated through the room. Gabriel stumbled to the side, almost being knocked off his feet.

"You'll speak when spoken to, boy," the demon spat. He adjusted his suit. "You'll learn, though."

Castiel sucked in a deep breath. They needed to escape,  _now_ , before the demon could take them to Hell. An auction item was sitting on a nearby crate—a sword. Castiel snatched it up, and though he was still bound in chains, he swung that sword around with all his might at the reapers behind him. The blade cut them down easily, possessing some kind of magical properties. Castiel spun toward the demon, but before he could strike, the Prince of Hell shot two fingers at him, and a crushing force punched him in the chest, flinging him back into some crates. He crashed to the floor in a shower of splinters and packing straw. The sword was yanked from his hands.

"Lesson one, then," Asmodeus said, deceptively calm. "You're mine now."

Castiel blinked up at the Prince standing over him, but before the demon could do anything, Gabriel tackled him from the side, and they both went sprawling to the ground. But Asmodeus shoved Gabriel off like he was nothing. Not only was this a Prince of Hell, but their powers were cut off and currently bound by the spelled manacles.

Castiel frantically looked around, and snatched up a long nail from the broken crate, palming it just before Asmodeus stomped back over to him. With a flick of his hand, fire erupted in Castiel's stomach, and he curled up with a strangled cry. In the background, he heard Gabriel let out a cry of pain as well.

"I will break you," the demon snarled. He crooked his fingers, and Castiel's world exploded with agony. A hand gripped the back of his neck hard, and in the next instant, he was sucked into a void worse than the one the reaper had traveled through.

When he emerged, he was flung to the hard floor again where he folded double around his cramping stomach. He heard a grunt next to him, and pried his eyelids open to find Gabriel on the ground, also clutching his abdomen. Craning his head, he managed to get a glimpse of stone walls, wrought iron lamp fixtures and torches, and a throne set on a small dais. It looked like a cross between a medieval dungeon and throne room. But it wasn't in Hell, that much Castiel was able to sense.

Asmodeus waved his hand, and chains hitched to the sides of the throne lashed out to wind around the links already binding them, chaining them like dogs on the floor. The demon then casually strode over to an antique cabinet and pulled out a thin wooden box.

"Souls may be the main source of power in this economy," he mused out loud. "But an angel's grace, mm, now that's somethin' special."

He drew out a large syringe with a fat vial. Castiel's eyes blew wide as he recognized that type of make.

Asmodeus turned toward them, yellow eyes gleaming lasciviously.

"Uh, what is that?" Gabriel spoke up.

Asmodeus marched over, and Castiel gritted his teeth as he struggled against the chains. But the demon stopped at Gabriel first. With a leering grin, he grabbed a fistful of Gabriel's hair and yanked his head back and to the side, exposing his neck.

"No!" Castiel shouted as Asmodeus jabbed the needle into Gabriel's carotid. Gabriel let out a cry of surprise and pain, but then as soon as Asmodeus started pulling the plunger back, a scream ripped from the archangel's throat. Swirling blue grace splashed into the vial.

Castiel thrashed in his chains, to no avail.

Asmodeus flashed him a dark look. "Wait your turn," he growled, releasing Gabriel's hair in order to shoot that hand toward Castiel. It felt like barbed hooks tearing into his internal organs, and he collapsed on his side.

A moment later, Asmodeus withdrew the needle. Gabriel crumpled, panting heavily and making a horrible keening noise in the back of his throat. Castiel watched in confusion as the demon rolled up his sleeve and turned the syringe toward his own arm, and then he gaped in horror as Asmodeus injected himself with Gabriel's grace.

The demon tilted his head back and closed his eyes, a contented rumble issuing from him as he absorbed the grace. Was he insane?

When he opened his eyes, the yellow was swirling. "Aah, that's some good stuff." He turned a contemplative look toward Gabriel. "Archangel grade, if I'm not mistaken. How interesting. Which one are you?"

Gabriel didn't answer or even look up, just kept shaking on the floor.

Asmodeus squatted down and patted him on the head. "Don't worry, son, you'll get used to it."

Castiel stiffened as the demon stood again, but Asmodeus didn't seem interested in extracting any of Castiel's grace at the moment. He returned the syringe to the box and put it away, and then left the chamber, leaving them alone.

Castiel immediately fingered the nail he'd grabbed at the auction house and twisted his arms up and around so he could reach the lock on his manacles. He didn't have the best angle, and he wasn't as proficient at this as the Winchesters were, but he'd learned the mechanics and knew he could get it.

After several long moments of struggling, he spared a glance at Gabriel, who was still curled up on the floor, but had stopped shaking.

"Are you alright?" Castiel asked, keeping his voice low.

Gabriel didn't respond right away. "How would you feel if Kentucky Fried vampire sucked out some of  _your_  grace?" he finally retorted hoarsely.

Castiel's jaw tightened. "Metatron cut out my grace with an angel blade, so I know it feels like lava when it pours out, and then a cold emptiness, like you've been hollowed out with a scythe and left with nothing but a thin shroud between you and nothingness." He bit back his amplifying bitterness and refocused on picking the lock. "He didn't take all your grace, did he?" he asked a moment later.

Gabriel was quiet. "No, he didn't," he said softly. He pushed himself up with a groan and furrowed his brows. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to pick the lock. Dean taught me not too long ago." With how often he'd been at low power over recent years, it'd seemed prudent to learn some mortal methods of coping with capture.

Gabriel watched him work at it for several more minutes, casting anxious looks toward the door, but there was no sound of Asmodeus returning.

He cleared his throat. "When did Metatron cut out your grace?"

"When he cast the angels from Heaven. There was a little bit left over after his spell, which I got back later. But you didn't care about that then, so why would you now?"

Gabriel lowered his voice. "I didn't know he'd done that to you."

"Because you weren't around."

Castiel gave himself a sharp shake. He needed to concentrate, not hash things out with his AWOL brother while they were still prisoners of a Prince of Hell who wanted to milk them for power like cattle.

He finally heard and felt the click, and jerked ramrod straight as his manacles unlatched. Castiel tore them off, feeling some of his grace unfettered, and bent over to do the shackles on his feet with a renewed sense of urgency. After a few false tries, he finally got those unlocked as well. Casting the chains away, he shifted to undo Gabriel's next.

"So when Metatron took your grace, you were…"

"Human."

"Right. I guess that's when you learned human things like picking locks and driving a car."

"I had to adapt or die," Castiel said. He wasn't going to mention the stolen grace. "And I needed to find a way to fix things. Because I wasn't going to turn my back on Heaven."

The first set of manacles came off, and Castiel moved to the second.

Gabriel looked like he was going to respond, but Castiel had gotten the rhythm down and made quick work of the last lock. The chains fell loose, and he stood quickly.

"Come on."

Gabriel pushed himself up with a struggle, obviously weakened from having a bit of his grace siphoned off. Castiel reached out to take his arm to help brace him as they moved toward the door.

The outer corridor was dark and empty, yet Castiel still kept his guard up as he picked a direction and kept moving. They rounded a corner and pulled up short as two demons blocked their path. Black eyes bored into them as the demons lowered themselves into aggressive crouches.

"Sound the alarm," one hissed.

Castiel whipped his angel blade out and threw it through the air. The blade skewered the second demon through the neck before he could follow the other's orders. Castiel surged forward, meeting the remaining demon head on. He didn't try to smite it, knowing that being cut off from Heaven meant it wouldn't work anyway. He punched the demon in the jaw, blocked a retaliatory blow, and took one hit to the stomach before he managed to pivot around the demon's back and retrieve his angel blade from the dead one. Then Castiel thrust his weapon into the demon's sternum, lighting it up with fractured orange lightning.

Castiel yanked his blade free and let the body drop. "Hurry," he urged, turning to take the lead down the hall in case there were other demons. He could hear Gabriel panting a few paces behind him.

But they made it to the exit without running into any more obstacles, and Castiel burst out onto a porch. Keeping his angel blade firmly in his grip, he waited for Gabriel to catch up, then ushered him ahead so Castiel could cover him from behind.

They hurried down the steps and into the street, making a dash for the woods across the way. Gabriel was staggering, but Castiel kept pushing him. They needed to put a good amount of distance between them and Asmodeus. The demon would not be happy when he realized they'd escaped, and even with his grace now unbound, Castiel didn't think he'd be a match for the Prince of Hell.

They kept going until the woods thinned out into more urban dwellings, and Castiel led the way into a foreclosed pool supply store. Once inside, Gabriel collapsed to the floor against the counter, chest heaving and sweat beading his brow.

Castiel pursed his mouth. With their inability to recharge through a connection to Heaven, Gabriel would probably need longer to recover.

"We can wait here for nightfall," he said. "Then I'll go find us a vehicle."

Gabriel didn't respond for several moments. "Look, Cas," he finally spoke up, "if I'd known what Metatron had done…"

"You knew the angels had been cast out of Heaven."

"Yeah, and I knew that was a mess I really didn't want to get in the middle of."

Castiel whirled on him. "And the spawn of Lucifer is?" He shook his head in frustration. "Why did you come back  _now_?"

Gabriel pushed himself up straighter. "Lucifer's kid is a big deal."

"The Darkness was a big deal. You didn't show up for that."

"Yeah, well, Amara was looneyville. This nephilim…I know what everyone's going to think about it, and I know how demented Luci is. But that's no reason to write the kid off as evil before it's even born."

Castiel let out a derisive scoff. "So you care about a nephew you've never met, but not your other siblings."

"You know I care about my brothers. That's why I couldn't stand the fighting."

"There will be fighting over the nephilim," Castiel retorted. "Or was your plan to just whisk Kelly away and keep the child hidden from everyone yourself?"

Gabriel winced.

Castiel snorted. "Thought so."

"What's wrong with me wanting to keep the peace?" he snapped.

"Your peace, Gabriel. Never mind the consequences to those left behind."

Gabriel opened his mouth, only to hesitate. He swallowed. "Cas—"

Castiel pivoted toward the door. "Get some rest," he said gruffly. "I'll keep watch."

Because as much as he may have wanted to, Castiel didn't abandon his family when they were in need. But he'd come to realize over the past year that his fellow angels weren't really his true family anymore. The Winchesters were. Castiel wanted to get back to them, wanted to help them with the nephilim and protect them if he could.

And Gabriel…Gabriel could leave, just like he always did.

Castiel tipped his head back and watched the sun sink lower in the waning afternoon sky, missing home, and trying not to worry about the dangers in this strange and terrifying new world.


	3. Episode 3: Will the Real Loki Please Stand Up

Gabriel scratched a fingernail at the flaking interior of the car Castiel had stolen so they could make their way back to the Men of Letters bunker in Lebanon. After their failure to get help from the reapers, they were on their own to find a way into Heaven, or a way to open a doorway back to their universe. And the Men of Letters bunker seemed as good a place as any to research something that could help them. Or, at the very least, it was a secluded place to hide out since this world was apparently very hostile to angels.

But they still had a few hours to go.

Castiel pulled off the highway and into a remote gas station, and Gabriel glanced over at the dash to see the gauge for the tank was almost empty.

Cas parked alongside one of the pump stations and turned off the engine. "I hope my credit card works in this universe," he commented before climbing out.

Gabriel lifted his brows and quickly exited after him. "If it does, get me a slurpee. Cherry flavor."

Castiel shot him a dark glower before marching into the gas station mini mart. Gabriel pursed his lips. That seemed like a no… Guess he'd have to get one himself.

He jogged to catch up. The glass door had just swung shut behind Castiel, and Gabriel reached for the handle to yank it open. There was a jangle of chimes, but instead of stepping into a tiny gas station, Gabriel suddenly found himself standing on a dirt road in front of what looked like a town from the Old West. Tumbleweeds strolled lazily across the road, and there was a dry breeze on the air.

Castiel, standing a couple of feet in front of him, whirled around. "I'm in no mood for your games, Gabriel," he growled.

Gabriel raised his palms. "This isn't me."

He glanced over his shoulder, but the door they'd come through was gone. His mouth turned down. They'd walked into a pocket dimension, that much he could tell, but a gas station was a weird place to have one. Although, this whole world was plum crazy, so how could they measure weird here?

"Maybe we have to pay the toll," he mused.

Castiel's jaw ticked as he narrowed his eyes at the town. "I don't like this."

Gabriel shrugged and started forward. "We could stand here all day or take a look around."

Castiel hesitated only a moment before following. They walked down the middle of the main street, keeping their eyes peeled on the surrounding buildings and alleyways. The place looked like a ghost town, no sign of anyone anywhere.

Until the door to the saloon creaked and swung open, a figure stepping out. He walked with head down, black cowboy hat concealing his face. His entire get-up was all black, and Gabriel would have cracked a joke about cliches, but the short figure planted himself in the middle of the road ahead of them and raised his head. And Gabriel found himself looking at a spitting image of himself.

"Oh."

"Gabriel?" Castiel questioned guardedly.

Loki—the real Loki—narrowed his gaze at them. "You don't belong in this town," he drawled with a put upon accent.

"Heh, funny you should say that because…" Gabriel started, but didn't get a chance to finish.

Loki was quick on the draw that Gabriel hadn't been expecting, and a sharp report cracked the air a split second before fire exploded in Gabriel's shoulder. He staggered back a step, eyes dropping to the hole now in his shirt. The bullet was just a piece of lead, and yet it  _hurt_.

He stumbled, and then Castiel was grabbing his arms and dragging him down a side alley. Loki didn't give chase, but then, they were in his pocket dimension; where were they gonna go he couldn't find them?

Nevertheless, Castiel ducked into a stable and helped Gabriel over to a pile of hay he could sit down against. The seraph crouched down next to him, holding a hand over the wound in his shoulder. Warm golden light began to suffuse from his palm, but it quickly started sputtering.

Castiel furled his hand into a fist. "I can't heal you," he said, sounding frustrated.

Gabriel shifted, wincing as it tugged at his wound. "You can't heal an archangel," he pointed out.

Castiel's mouth pressed into a tight line, and with a stubborn look of defiance, held his hand out again. Gabriel almost rolled his eyes, until a sharp pain rocketed through him and he sucked in a harsh gasp. The bullet turned slowly, worming its way back out.

Castiel rotated his wrist, and a cry tore from Gabriel's throat as the mangled bit of lead popped out to drop on the ground. "You should be able to heal yourself now," he said.

Gabriel gritted his teeth against the lingering pain. He wanted to make a scathing remark about it, but the truth was it would have been harder for him to heal if the bullet remained stuck in his vessel. Cas's bedside manner could use some improvement, but his method had been effective.

The younger angel moved back toward the door, casting guarded looks outside. "Who was that?" he asked. "That wasn't the Gabriel of this world."

"No," Gabriel grunted. "That was the real Loki."

Castiel flicked a questioning look at him. "Who happens to have the same vessel?"

Gabriel pushed himself to sit up straighter. "Not exactly. In our world, Loki and I had an arrangement. We both wanted a witness protection of sorts. So we crafted a vessel with his visage for me, and I took on his identity so he could go off to live a quiet life undisturbed." He huffed. "Seems that didn't happen here."

"He did seem angry you were masquerading as him," Castiel remarked.

"I'm not masquerading as him!"

Castiel lolled a dry look his way.

Gabriel waved a hand dismissively. "The temple thing was just me trying to get a feel for this world."

"Right. Well, you're a master of pocket dimensions; how do we get out of here?"

Gabriel gave his shoulder a tentative roll. It twinged, but was starting to heal, albeit much more slowly than normal. He pushed himself to his feet. "We have to find the door. Most likely it's somewhere along the edge of this little construct. We should head out of town."

Castiel flicked a quick once-over at him. "Are you good to go?"

"Good enough," he replied. He didn't mention how his nerves were taut over the fact Loki hadn't come after them yet. What was his game? Gabriel may have played the original Trickster once upon a time, but he couldn't begin to guess what this one was up to.

Castiel led the way down the alley to the back of the stable, then into the countryside. Since he was keeping a guarded lookout, Gabriel focused his energies on trying to sense the edge of the pocket dimension. He knew what to look for—slight distortions in the wavelengths and frequencies of the surrounding environment where time and space had been warped and manipulated.

The only problem was, this Wild West setting looked like it went on for acres, and with the increase in the pagan deities' power in this universe, Gabriel had to wonder just how much trouble Loki might have gone to making this.

A shout rose up in the distance, and they turned back toward the town to see a group of men mounting a bunch of horses that hadn't been there moments before. When the posse set their course toward them, Gabriel couldn't hold back a groan.

"Um, Cas, we should run."

They had a head start, yet this posse had a very capricious Trickster who lent speed to their steeds, and it wasn't long before Gabriel and Castiel were caught. Castiel tried to fight back, of course, but angel strength seemed to have been nullified in this pocket dimension, because they were both swiftly apprehended by these conjured puppets and ropes lashed around their wrists. Gabriel grunted as his arm was yanked backward harshly, pulling at his still wounded shoulder.

When the ropes were slung around their necks, he stiffened. The rules in this little dimension seemed to have been bent so that angels could suffer injury almost parallel to mortals, so he was not keen on going through a hanging.

"Loki, come on!" Gabriel shouted with a desperate chuckle. "There's no need for this! We were best buds in an alternate universe. We had a doppelgänger thing going on that was your idea! I swear I'm not trying to upstage you."

The posse suddenly froze as though the pause button on this little play had been hit. Even one of the ropes was hanging midair where it'd been tossed up and over a tree branch. Gabriel and Castiel tried to tug themselves free, but they were held firmly in the now granite grips of the frozen characters.

Loki appeared out of thin air, still wearing the black cowboy outfit. "Explain yourself," he said.

"We're from an alternate world. One where neither the pagans or Heaven is the top dog. I left Heaven over a millennia ago, faked my death. You were fed up with the drama of the Pantheon and offered to let me take your place as Loki. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement."

Loki narrowed his eyes skeptically.

"There was a mishap with a pocket dimension and an outside burst of power," Gabriel went on. "A nephilim's, actually. Somehow it opened a rift between worlds and we got sent here. Seriously, we're just trying to get home. I have no plans to usurp you here."

Loki's gaze bored into him for several long moments. Then he raised a hand and snapped his fingers. Gabriel jerked as the hands and ropes restraining him suddenly vanished, the posse having disappeared. But so had Castiel.

Gabriel craned his neck around before whirling back to Loki in alarm.

The Trickster's eyes were like dark storm clouds. "I think your story is too wild to be a lie," he said. "And just like in your world, there's only room for one of us. And I have no intention of stepping aside." He paused. "So I will send you back."

Gabriel's brows rose sharply. "Really?"

"Yes, if you want."

"Hells yeah!" Gabriel broke into a wide grin, but then hesitated, eyes narrowing. "What's the catch?"

Loki smirked, and snapped his fingers again. Gabriel felt a ripple on the air, and turned to find that there were now railroad tracks laid out across the plain—with Cas strapped down across them. A train horn sounded in the distance.

Gabriel spun back around. "What are you doing?" he demanded.

Loki's mouth curved upward mischievously. "I don't have the power to break through universes. But you said a pocket dimension plus a nephilim's—a half angel's—power brought you here." He raised one hand, palm up. "I have the pocket dimension." He lifted the other. "And the power from an angel sacrifice should be enough to recreate the circumstances that brought you here."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa…" Gabriel held up his hands. "That's not the deal."

"It's your only way home," Loki countered, gaze sharpening with warning. "It's not like you angels have any real loyalty to each other. You're an archangel, correct? That one's a foot soldier. A dime a dozen. So, if you're serious that you're not here to challenge my rule, then take my offer. Otherwise…" He canted his head. "You can both die here."

Gabriel's jaw tightened. "I am not going to let you sacrifice my brother."

The air crackled with menace, and Loki shifted into an aggressive stance. "Fine. I'll enjoy the power boost I get from the blood of an archangel, too." He moved his arm out to the side, fingers twitching mere inches from his gun holster.

"Hold your horses, bucko." Gabriel gestured to himself. "The Loki I know valued period consistency. I'm not dressed for a duel."

Loki squinted at him suspiciously.

Gabriel shot him an expectant look. The train horn blared again, sounding closer, though there was none visible on the tracks in the distance yet. Gabriel gritted his teeth, trying not to let his growing anxiety show.

Loki finally smirked, and with a snap of his fingers, Gabriel's attire had changed to plain brown trousers and shirt, and a Hoss style bowl hat atop his head. He swallowed back a huff of irritation. At least he had the customary gun holster and pistol.

"You're a cocky little cockroach, aren't you?" Loki remarked. "Like all angels."

Gabriel clenched his fists, but quickly loosened them to be ready for the draw. He and Loki stared at each other, eyes narrowing, facial muscles ticking in anticipation. Then Loki went for his gun with the reflexes of a cobra. Gabriel whipped his out as well. The two shots echoed over each other, rattling Gabriel's eardrums. Loki's bullet scored across his arm, but was luckily just a graze. Gabriel's shot hit dead center.

Loki stumbled back a step, looking surprised. He started to scoff at the shot, probably because he was the only one in this pocket dimension who was impervious to a simple lead bullet, and that's what he'd expected Gabriel to fight with.

But while Loki had acquiesced to decking Gabriel out in the appropriate attire, the devious archangel had used some of his limited grace to swap out the bullets for something a little more grainy.

Loki suddenly went rigid, eyes blowing wide, and he shot a startled gaze down at his chest where the bullet hole was oozing dark blood. "H-how…?"

Gabriel just gazed at him darkly. "You taught me all your tricks."

Loki dropped to his knees, then toppled sideways, eyes going vacant as his last breath left him.

Gabriel pivoted sharply and sprinted toward the tracks. The train was now visible careening directly toward them. He scrambled onto the ground and started yanking at the ropes, but Castiel was completely wrapped up in a cocoon of them like a damsel from a cheesy movie, various ends knotted tightly to the spokes of the tracks. The seraph's cheeks were already red from all the energy he'd been exerting trying to struggle free.

"Gabriel…" he grunted.

The train horn blared louder, the steam engine hissing its fast approach. They already knew they could be hurt in this pocket dimension. Gabriel didn't know if they could be killed, but he most definitely didn't want to risk his little brother getting shredded to pieces, because he  _was_  fairly certain they wouldn't be easily put back together.

He jumped to his feet and shot a palm out toward the train, mustering every ounce of grace he had access to. Power exploded outward in a shockwave that burst toward the train, blasting it away with a flash of light and resounding boom. The air itself shook and the walls of the pocket dimension shattered into a shower of broken shards.

Gabriel doubled over, putting his hands on his knees to catch his breath. They were in a field, but several yards away was the gas station they'd stopped at. He glanced down at Castiel, now no longer tied to a set of railroad tracks.

Though winded, Gabriel reached a hand down to help him up.

Castiel's eyes narrowed. "You're injured again."

Gabriel shifted his arm around to inspect the graze that was bleeding sluggishly. He shrugged, his shoulder still twinging. "I'll live."

Castiel's mouth turned down. "Why did you reject Loki's offer?"

"You expected me to let him kill you?"

Castiel looked away, and Gabriel felt another twinge in his heart that had nothing to do with bullet wounds, yet somehow hurt just as much.

"Hey, I may have been a neglectful brother, but I never wanted any of my siblings dead. And we're in this together. So we go together, or not at all."

Castiel flashed him a slightly skeptical look, but then nodded. Without another word, he turned and started heading back to the gas station. Gabriel followed. He felt a zing of apprehension when they entered the mini mart again, but this time they weren't transported somewhere else, and the gas station attendant barely looked up from a magazine at them, not even at Gabriel's cowboy get-up, which he realized he was still wearing. He ditched the hat on one of the shelves and turned his senses inward to evaluate whether his grace was recovered enough for him to change outfits.

Mm, maybe not yet.

Castiel walked up to the cashier and deposited an armful of first aid supplies on the counter, which surprised Gabriel. But he was even more flummoxed when Castiel added a red colored slurpee to the goods, too.

Gabriel watched the attendant ring the items up, and then add a tank of gas. He waited to see if Castiel's credit card would be denied, but it appeared to go through without a problem. Finally a bit of good luck.

When Castiel gathered the items up and turned toward the door, Gabriel arched an eyebrow at him. Castiel wordlessly passed him the slurpee and walked past him, heading back out to the car to fill up the tank.

Gabriel took a sip of the sweet, icy goodness. Ooh, brain freeze. His grace was definitely still frazzled if he was feeling that.

Castiel hooked the nozzle into the gas valve and set it to automatically pump, then gestured at Gabriel to come around to the trunk. "Let me bandage your wounds."

"They're not a big deal."

"Still."

Gabriel could see he was serious, so instead of putting up a petulant protest like he'd been thinking, he silently went over and endured Castiel cleaning the bullet graze and taping a gauze pad over it.

"How's your shoulder?"

"It's sore, but the hole sealed up," Gabriel replied honestly.

Castiel nodded, and started packing up the supplies, which he tossed into the backseat before going back to the pump and putting the nozzle back.

"Thanks," Gabriel said abruptly. When Castiel quirked a look at him, he raised the slurpee. "And for…" He gestured vaguely at his bandaged his arm.

Castiel's expression softened, and there was maybe a hint of a hint of a smile on his lips. He tightened the gas cap and closed the panel.

"We're in this together."

Gabriel's mouth twitched. Out of all the angels, he couldn't imagine a better partner in crime than Castiel, even if he'd never admitted it out loud.

Now they just had to actually survive this world and find a way home.


	4. Episode 4: The White Hats

Castiel pulled their stolen car to a stop outside the Men of Letters bunker in Lebanon, Kansas and shut off the engine. From the outside, the place looked just like home, but Castiel knew it was empty within, that the things—the people—that made it home to him in his world weren't around in this one.

With grim disheartenment, he climbed out of the vehicle and made his way toward the door, Gabriel following behind. Though Castiel had proposed they look through the Men of Letters archive for a spell or something to send them back, he didn't have much confidence that they'd actually find anything. Crossing universes wasn't exactly common. But they were running out of options at this point, and giving up was not acceptable.

The heavy door grated open with that familiar, aged creak, and the lights were still on from before, but the air inside immediately smelled musty and stale, dispelling any hint that this place could be anything other than abandoned.

Except, just as Castiel and Gabriel descended the steps into the war room, several figures suddenly swarmed out of the adjoining hallways to surround them. They were dressed in black combat gear and armed with automatic assault rifles, which were all trained on the two angels. Castiel tensed; where had these men come from? The bunker had been empty when he and Gabriel had first entered it.

"Whoa, hey there, fellas," the archangel said warily, raising his palms. "Can we help you?"

"Identify yourselves," one of them snapped.

"You first."

"You're trespassing," the soldier continued, jerking his weapon warningly. "Now, identify yourselves or I'll blow your heads off."

Castiel frowned at the man's accent. And the fact they were in the bunker… Movement in his peripheral vision caught his attention, and Castiel flicked his gaze to the side as another man entered from the library. His eyes widened.

Gabriel's expression had darkened, and he'd curled one hand closed, thumb and forefinger poised to snap. Castiel shot a hand out to stop him before he could try to use his grace. Given their limited power, Gabriel might not have been able to take all these men out without one of them getting off a shot, and if they were who Castiel suspected, their weapons might contain bullets that weren't exactly mundane.

"We didn't mean to trespass," Castiel spoke up quickly. "We were under the impression the bunker wasn't currently in use by the Men of Letters."

"It isn't," the man on the library steps said in a stiff British accent. "Not since 1958 when all its chapter members were murdered. An alarm went off at headquarters when the sensors registered the place being accessed. So how did you know about its location, and how did you even get in?"

"This is going to sound strange," Castiel began, casting a glance at the men prepared to shoot them. "But we're from an alternate universe. One where I have a key to the Men of Letters bunker." He held one hand up, fingers splayed, and slowly reached into his pocket to pull out the key as evidence.

Mick Davies regarded him without reaction. "Are you claiming to be Men of Letters?"

"Um, not exactly."

One of the soldiers was holding up a strange looking device Castiel hadn't noticed before, and he moved closer to Mick to angle the screen toward him. "They're not human."

The tension in the air skyrocketed as the men shifted, tightening their grips on their weapons. Gabriel visibly stiffened in response.

"We're angels," Castiel explained hurriedly, grimacing at the admission. If pagan deities and demons were after them, who knew how humans would view them.

Mick let out a soft snort. "Angels," he repeated dubiously. "On Earth?"

"Like I said, we're not from this dimension. We ended up here by accident. We were hoping the Men of Letters archives might have a way to send us back. In our world, we're allied with two legacies who reestablished the Lebanon chapter house in 2013." Castiel hesitated. "We've even worked a few cases with the British Men of Letters."

He just wouldn't mention how that relationship was precarious at best, given the British Men of Letters had started things off by kidnapping and torturing Sam. But they had helped on a few things since then, and seemed to have invaluable resources.

"Mick Davies," Castiel went on, nodding to the gentleman. "Do you still call yourselves the British Men of Letters in this world?"

Mick gaped at him, his cool mask finally cracking.

Castiel flicked his gaze around the soldiers again, aware of how tenuous the situation was. "I can tell you the layout of the bunker, and which shelves certain books are on. Assuming the Men of Letters in this universe used the same cataloguing system. If you need more proof."

Mick was silent for a moment, and then finally raised a hand, signaling for his men to lower their weapons. Castiel released a relieved breath.

Mick was now gazing at them with fascination mixed with awe, not unlike Sam's reaction upon Castiel's first meeting with him.

"And you're angels," the man said.

Castiel nodded slowly, still on guard about that. "Yes. My name is Castiel. This is Gabriel."

Mick's brows rose sharply in disbelief. "The archangel?"

Gabriel huffed and said under his breath, "So I am still famous."

"All we have is lore," Mick replied. "Angels haven't been seen on Earth in over millennia. Some even say they're myth, though the history of the rise of the pagan deities suggests there is truth to your existence." He shook his head. "And now you're here."

"Yeah," Gabriel said a tad stiffly. "But we'd rather not be. So I don't suppose you guys know of a way to help send us back to our own universe?"

Mick's mouth pinched. "I've never heard of anyone opening portals between alternate dimensions, but it's possible there could be an obscure reference in the lore somewhere. Unfortunately, our resources are limited and stretched thin simply trying to mitigate the pagans' destructive tendencies."

Castiel frowned contemplatively. "You're fighting against them? From what I've seen, it's…accepted that they're in power."

Mick scowled. "Accepted by most, yes. Most people don't believe it's possible to stand up to a demigod. And the pagans don't engage in mass destruction, but they're not peaceful, either. The Men of Letters was established as a covert group interested in studying our enemies and doing what we could to save lives." His expression fell. "It's an endless task, with little ground to be gained." Mick paused, eyeing them considerably. "According to history, the angels were the only ones matched enough to take them on. Perhaps you can help us."

Castiel exchanged a glance with Gabriel. It sounded like in this universe, the Men of Letters were an underground resistance group, and while their cause sounded just, this was a world Castiel had no intention of getting entrenched in.

"Unfortunately, we're cut off from Heaven here," Castiel admitted. "Our powers are considerably less than that of the pagans. I assume because they apparently stockpile human souls as sources of power."

Mick nodded gravely. "The afterlife for humans is nothing to look forward to. Which is why we're trying to do what we can in the hopes that one day we might weaken the pagans enough and the angels might decide to return."

Castiel grimaced automatically; Heaven getting involved in affairs never worked out well in his own universe. But maybe things would be different here.

"There's not much we can tell you," Gabriel added. "In our world, the pagan religions simply died out, leaving the demigods only semi powerful and mostly nomadic. Anything we would have used against them probably wouldn't apply in this universe."

Mick looked disappointed. "But, you would still make powerful allies. And you said so yourself, you're allied with the Men of Letters in your world."

"A world we really need to get back to," Castiel pressed. "It may not be overrun with pagan deities, but we've got our own problems, like Lucifer's unborn child potentially destroying the world."

Mick blinked at that, but then his expression settled into grim resignation. "Very well. I will have some people start looking through our resources on anything that might help you." He paused and cleared his throat. "But in the meantime, perhaps you can help us with a few missions in return. I understand you might not be equipped to dethrone a demigod, but we have other situations we're attempting to deal with, such as a monster that's taken up residence in a large housing project and has been picking off tenants. The pagan deities won't do anything to protect their subjects, which means it's up to us." Mick sighed. "But so far we've lost three men trying to kill this beast, and it will continue to use the neighborhood as a feeding ground if we don't stop it."

Castiel's mouth turned down. He supposed the request wasn't outrageous, and Mick  _had_  agreed to help them…

"Alright," he said.

"Seriously?" Gabriel groused.

Castiel turned toward him. "I would think you wouldn't want to pass up an opportunity to have your praises sung. I'm sure the British Men of Letters would make certain all their lore books would include this brave act of Gabriel the archangel."

Gabriel narrowed his eyes, but then let out a dramatic sigh. "Fine. Let's go save the peasants."

Mick smiled. "Excellent." He motioned toward one of his men. "Rupert, call Evangeline to get her team working on alternate worlds. Hold down the fort here and take a look through the catalogue in case the Lebanon chapter house has anything. We'll hopefully be back in a day or two."

He then nodded to his men, who began filing toward the stairs.

Castiel quirked a brow at Mick as he followed. "You're coming?"

Mick frowned. "Of course. I'm the leader of this unit."

"Oh."

"Why? Something the matter?"

"No. It's just…the Mick Davies I met was more the manage-from-headquarters type."

Ketch was the get-his-hands-dirty operative. Castiel almost asked where he was in this universe, but decided against it.

Mick's expression darkened for a moment. "Ah, well, everyone is needed in the field to keep up with everything."

"Do you work with hunters?" Castiel asked curiously as he and Gabriel followed the men up to the garage where three black SUVs were parked.

"Hunters?" Mick repeated dubiously. "I don't follow."

"Right. I suppose in this world, you are the hunters," Castiel amended.

Perhaps circumstances had led the British Men of Letters organization to have more humanitarian goals. They certainly seemed interested in saving lives.

"How far do we have to go?" Gabriel asked once they'd climbed into a vehicle and got on the road.

"Seventy-two miles," Mick replied. "We should arrive in a little over an hour."

"What type of monster are we dealing with?" Castiel asked.

"Based on the limited glimpses we've gotten, we've narrowed it down to three to five creatures with spikes. Unfortunately, we haven't been able to positively ID it, which has made it difficult to know how to go in fully prepared."

Mick reached for a briefcase under the seat and opened it, then pulled out some files which he handed to Castiel and Gabriel.

"These are what we figure we're potentially dealing with. Have you had any experience with them?"

Castiel scanned the printouts. "No."

Gabriel lifted one picture and tilted it. "Eesh, I hope it's not this one. They explode like pustules when they die."

Mick's brow furrowed as though he didn't know whether Gabriel was joking or not. Castiel guessed not.

They spent the rest of the drive reviewing the files, but Mick was right: without knowing exactly what they were facing, they couldn't go in fully prepared.

The SUV eventually pulled up alongside a curb and the men started climbing out. Castiel exited the vehicle and found himself gazing up at an aged building of at least ten floors. It was huge, but while it also appeared lived in, it was also in obvious disrepair. Housing for low income families meant lesser quality upkeep. Castiel tried to imagine a monster simply roaming around the place, and it baffled him. Such a thing would be practically unheard of in his universe.

But they weren't in their world; they were in this one.

"Victims have been taken from the first, fourth, and tenth floors," Mick reported. "So we're not sure where it might be nesting, or if it's just constantly lurking."

"No bodies have turned up?"

Mick's mouth pinched into a tight line. "No one's gone looking hard enough."

Castiel gaped at him incredulously. "And people stay?"

Mick shrugged. "They have nowhere else to go."

Gabriel nudged his way forward, materializing his angel blade. "Well, now the exterminators are here."

"Gabriel, we should be careful," Castiel warned.

The archangel waved a dismissive hand. "I got this." He started striding toward the building.

Castiel rolled his eyes heavenward before hurrying to keep up, dropping his angel blade into his hand as well.

Mick and his men filed in behind them.

They entered the building, everyone doing a visual sweep with weapons raised. There were some children's bicycles under the left stairwell, covered in dust. One of the light fixtures buzzed and flickered. The wallpaper was peeling. And there was a rust colored stain on the floor a few feet away that no one had bothered to clean up. Deep gouges rent the concrete through the dried blood.

"It's like a B-horror film," Gabriel muttered, and continued down the hallway deeper into the building.

Castiel strained his ears to listen for any unusual sounds, but so far everything seemed silent.

Until they came to a door that led down to the boiler room. It was cracked open, and Castiel saw a flash of yellow low to the ground, and he called out a warning.

Gabriel jumped back just as the beast barged out of the stairwell. Claws skidded across the concrete floor as the thing scrabbled to spin around, spitting a snarl at them. It had an almost feline body, with scales on its hide under patches of fur, and a tail lined with spikes.

"Ooh, hey there, kitty," Gabriel crooned.

The monster gnashed its teeth at him.

He waggled the fingers of one hand. "Bring your pretty face to my blade."

The beast lunged, and Gabriel darted to the side, swiping his weapon. It scored a gash across the creature's shoulder, eliciting a howl as the beast darted around. With a roar, it opened its maw wide and belched out a cloud of hot breath right at Gabriel.

The archangel wrinkled his nose and waved his hand to clear the air. "That's just nasty." He went still, mouth turning down into a frown. And then his eyes widened. "Oh."

He started to sway, eyes rolling back.

"Gabriel!" Castiel arched his arm back and threw his blade, landing a hit in the creature's side between two ribs before it could pounce on the archangel. The beast reared back with an ear-splitting shriek, and then bolted back down the stairs it had come up from.

Castiel hurried to Gabriel's side just as he finally collapsed to the floor. "Gabriel? Gabriel!" He seized his brother's shoulders and gave him a rough shake, but got no response. Putting a hand in front of Gabriel's mouth, he at least felt a puff of breath.

Mick rushed over and dropped down next to him. "What was that?"

"Mishipeshu," Castiel growled. Which he could now confirm after seeing its poisonous breath in action.

Mick's eyes widened. "Will he be alright?"

Castiel gritted his teeth; he couldn't help Gabriel's healing along. "He should be." Glancing at the stairwell, Castiel snatched up Gabriel's blade and stood. "Stay here. If it doubles back up, shoot it with everything you have."

"Should you be going alone?" Mick questioned.

Probably not, but he wasn't about to risk human lives. Without giving a response, Castiel swept into the stairwell. His eyes immediately adjusted to the darkness, catching sight of slick drops of black blood on the steps leading down. He ventured down cautiously, senses peeled for the creature. He heard a shuffle further into the boiler room, and a chittering sound.

Gripping the angel blade tightly, he strode forward. He'd have to avoid getting a face full of the beast's noxious breath if he didn't want to become the mishipeshu's next meal.

Something skittered to his right and he whirled toward it. A growl rumbled from the darkness just before a shadow pounced. Castiel ducked to the side and spun around. So did the creature. Castiel lunged, driving the angel blade down into the center of the beast's back right above where its vital organs should be. The blade sank down to the hilt and the mishipeshu screeched. Castiel grunted as something pierced his side, and he stumbled back in surprise. Glancing down, he saw a spike sticking out from his abdomen. He'd been so focused on avoiding the front end, he'd forgotten the rear was just as deadly.

The mishipeshu dropped with a thud to the floor, letting out one last wheezing breath before falling still completely. At least Castiel had managed to kill it.

He wrapped his hand around the spicule and clenched his jaw as he yanked it out. Pain tore through him, almost bringing him to his knees, but he managed to keep himself on his feet. His grace flooded the wound, trying to repair it, though he knew it wouldn't be instantaneous.

Castiel limped over to the dead monster to retrieve the two angel blades stuck in its hide. He pulled them out with a squelch, then froze as another chittering sound issued from the darkness. And then another responded.

Castiel's heart dropped into his stomach as shapes began slinking across the room toward him. They were much smaller than the mishipeshu, but moved in the same manner, and several sets of yellow eyes gleamed eerily at him.

It was a nest.

That must have been why the creature had settled here—a dark place to hatch its young, complete with a large food source to pick and choose from.

Fists clenching around the two angel blades, Castiel readied himself for another round.

o.0.o

Gabriel groaned as he woke to the sensation of someone operating a jackhammer inside his head. He'd never been this hungover before. A sharp scent of ammonia wafted up his nostrils, jolting him, but the abrupt movement only made his head pound more.

A hand settled on his shoulder and a British accent said close by, "Easy."

Gabriel pried his eyelids open. "Ungh, what happened?" He was beginning to realize he had not gotten drunk hanging out with porn stars. Unless this British Man of Letters had a night job.

"You were knocked out by the creature's breath," Mick Davies explained as he capped the small container of smelling salts and pocketed it. "Apparently it's toxic. Castiel confirmed it's a mishipeshu."

Gabriel slung an arm over his eyes and moaned again. Great. Those were nasty buggers. "So did we kill it?"

Mick shook his head. "It retreated down to the basement. Castiel went after it."

Gabriel blinked, and then shot upright to take in the hallway. Though his vision blurred for a moment, he counted all the men in their unit. " _Alone_?" he exclaimed.

That  _idiot_!

Mick was frowning at him. "He told us to stay here and guard the exit."

Gabriel struggled to get to his feet, and Mick reached out to help him. "Where's my blade?"

"Castiel took it. He threw his at the creature and hit it, but the blade was still stuck when it ran off."

Oh, that was just fantastic.

Gabriel stormed toward the stairwell door. Mick and his men followed, still armed with their assault rifles. Not too far from the base of the steps was the slain body of the mishipeshu. Gabriel had a moment of feeling impressed with his baby brother, but then a high-pitched shriek sounded from another part of the boiler room. Gabriel broke into a run, the pounding boots of the military men keeping pace behind him.

They rounded one of the large boilers and careened to a stop at the sight of two more creatures strewn across the floor, black blood pooling beneath them. And three more were hemming Castiel in where he'd collapsed against the far wall, the angel's clothes tattered and spattered with blood.

Gabriel instinctively shot out his hand and summoned his grace. A blue aura filled the air around him as his power lit up, and a second later, the baby mishipeshu that was closest to Castiel burst into flames. It reared back with raging shrieks as it flailed against the divine fire.

The Men of Letters, in good form, didn't even blink, and the soldiers emptied their clips into the remaining two monsters. When the other one disintegrated into ash and the fire extinguished, the place fell silent.

Gabriel practically sprinted across the room toward his brother. Castiel tried to get up, but ended up sagging back against the wall, face scrunching up in obvious pain. Gabriel counted several slashes across his chest, legs, and one arm. And a rather large stain of bright crimson in his side that didn't look like it'd come from claw marks.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Gabriel snapped, dropping down beside him and holding a hand over the wounds. Golden light suffused from his palm, but right away Gabriel could sense that he didn't have enough juice to heal Castiel fully. Gritting his teeth in frustration, he turned his attention to at least mending the major internal damage.

"The mishipeshu was wounded. How was I to know there was a nest?" Castiel replied, then sucked in a sharp breath and squeezed his eyes shut as Gabriel magically suctioned out the blood pooling in his liver and melded the organ back together.

"And you say  _I_  don't think things through," Gabriel carped.

His grace flickered and sputtered, and then fizzled out. He clenched his fist.

"I can't heal any more."

He'd barely done enough as it was. The jagged fissures in Castiel's flesh were still oozing blood and his pallor was getting paler by the minute.

"I thought angels were invincible," one of the humans said under his breath.

Gabriel almost snapped his fingers to give him an ass's ears, but was distracted by Mick pushing his way through to crouch down beside them. The leader of the Men of Letters unit took out a first aid kit from one of his vest pockets and ripped it open.

"Dispose of the bodies," he told his men. "And call Rupert to see if the Lebanon chapter house has a fully stocked infirmary. If not, have him go out and get supplies." Mick glanced between Castiel and Gabriel. "Will you make it back there?"

"Yes," Castiel answered hoarsely.

Gabriel pressed his lips into a thin line. They were over an hour away from the bunker. Though it wasn't like there was another place they could go. Even if a human hospital could help, there was no telling whether the doctors would ring up their local deity and report the arrival of two fugitive angels.

Mick started applying pressure bandages to Castiel's various wounds while the others dragged all the corpses to one location and set them on fire.

When they were ready, Castiel tried to stand, stubbornly insisting he could walk to the vehicles. Gabriel waited the two seconds it took for exhaustion and blood loss to kick in, and then stepped in to catch Castiel when he passed out.

"I gotcha, little brother," he said for Cas's ears only as he turned and carried him out of the basement.

o.0.o

Castiel woke groggily to the feel of a soft mattress beneath him and scratchy blankets tucked around him. The smell of concrete and must was also familiar, and he wondered why he'd fallen asleep in his room in the bunker. But then as he started to shift, dull pain lanced across his torso and legs, and he realized he hadn't been sleeping; he'd been unconscious.

"Finally," a voice muttered. "You were giving Sleeping Beauty a run for her money."

Castiel blinked blearily at the figure sitting in a chair by the bed. "Gabriel?"

Memory came crashing back—the alternate universe, being trapped here, the hunt with the British Men of Letters. So this wasn't his room, and it wasn't his home. He tried to sit up.

Gabriel shot a hand out to push him back down. "Whoa, take it slow, kiddo. You're still not fully stitched back together."

Castiel eased back against the pillow, but lifted his head to glance down at himself. He couldn't see under the blankets, but he felt the bandages wrapped securely around his chest, stomach, legs, and arm.

"There was a nest," he said.

Gabriel's expression darkened. "Yeah. I'm still ticked about that. You should have waited for me."

"You're the one who went charging in first and got knocked out," Castiel mumbled, letting his gaze drift up toward the ceiling. His heart constricted with a deep sense of homesickness.

Gabriel huffed. "Yeah, okay."

Castiel turned his head and arched a surprised brow at the admission.

Gabriel shrugged blithely, though his next statement was made in seeming all seriousness. "Next time we try going in together."

Castiel regarded him for a prolonged moment, but then slowly nodded.

Footsteps drew his attention toward the door as Mick walked in, dressed in a casual suit that looked more like the other world's Mick.

"Glad to see you're awake," he said genuinely. "Gabriel seemed concerned there for a bit."

Castiel glanced at his brother, who was pointedly avoiding eye contact. He pushed himself up a little further so he wasn't lying down completely.

"Thank you for your help," Mick went on. "Now that we know there was a nest, I truly believe a lot more of our men would have died trying to eradicate it. You've saved many lives."

"Almost at the cost of his own," Gabriel muttered.

Castiel shot him a chiding look, but there was a measure of fondness in it. He turned back to Mick. "Thank you for letting us stay here while I recovered."

Mick quirked a brow at him. "Of course." He shifted his weight. "I am afraid I have some bad news."

Castiel automatically tensed.

"The Men of Letters don't have a way to send you back to your world," Mick continued regretfully. "However, there is a witch we know of who may have enough power to do it, if you dare to go down that road."

"We don't have a choice," Castiel didn't hesitate to reply.

Mick nodded gravely. "You should probably wait until you've fully recovered before seeking this witch out. She's very dangerous."

Gabriel shrugged one shoulder. "We're used to danger by now."

"This one's different. She rivals the pagans."

Castiel's mouth turned down. "Who is it?"

"Rowena MacLeod."

Castiel thunked his head back against the headboard with a groan.


	5. Episode 5: Together Or Not At All

"So this Rowena, seemed like you recognized the name," Gabriel said as Castiel drove them into Boston.

"Unfortunately," the other angel muttered.

"You met her in our world?"

"Yes. And if her counterpart here is anything like her, she's ruthless, power hungry, and would murder her own son if it profited her." Castiel sighed. "But she is powerful. Perhaps powerful enough to help us."

"At a price," Gabriel surmised.

"Yes."

Gabriel worked his jaw. They didn't exactly have much to trade in. In fact, their experience in this world had proven that  _they_  were the commodities. And if this witch was as power driven as everyone else was, she'd probably be more interested in enslaving them than helping. Which made seeking her out a very bad idea.

But they had little choice.

Gabriel glanced at his brother. Castiel's jaw was set in stone, expression grim yet determined. He had more fervent reasons for wanting to get back to their universe. Gabriel, well, he didn't really like this world and wasn't keen on making it his permanent residence. But he didn't exactly have anything waiting for him back home, either. Not the way Castiel did.

But he could, if he tried. The unborn nephilim deserved a chance. And…maybe he could do a better job of being there for his little brother. Someone needed to.

"We could offer her the Men of Letters bunker in Lebanon," he suggested.

Castiel shot him a scandalized look. "We can't do that."

"The Winchesters aren't there, and will never be there. And even the Brits wrote the place off. It's not like we're stealing it from someone."

"There are powerful artifacts in the bunker."

"Exactly my point. You said this Rowena will want something worthwhile in return for helping us."

"Which she will then likely use to hurt people," Castiel countered. "We can't allow that."

"Not even to get home?"

A muscle in Castiel's cheek ticked. "The British Men of Letters still monitor the place. If Rowena moved in, they would respond, and could be killed. Mick helped us. I won't repay his kindness with betrayal."

"He didn't help  _that_  much," Gabriel grumbled. "And his little mission almost got you killed."

"The bunker is off limits," Castiel said sharply.

Gabriel huffed. "Fine. Then what else you got?"

Castiel fell silent, and a moment later pulled the vehicle to a stop along the curb outside a Victorian style mansion. He turned the engine off and eyed the place with constipated discontent, but also resignation.

"I think we'll have to just play it by ear."

"Really?" Gabriel drawled. "There you go again, not  _thinking_  things through."

Castiel rolled his eyes. "I have thought it through. Either we approach Rowena and hope she can be convinced to help us, or we turn around and find a place to hide for the rest of eternity while the pagans rule the world. Or go work for the Men of Letters and help in the fight. Is that what you want to do?"

Gabriel bit back a snarky retort. No, that wasn't what he wanted. Not deep down.

He shrugged. "Okay, let's go make nice with the wicked witch."

They exited the car and made their way up the drive to the house. Gabriel's fingers twitched with the urge to draw his angel blade, but going in armed wasn't exactly the way to build trust. Still, he didn't like feeling…vulnerable. In their world, Gabriel was one of the most powerful beings on the planet. Here, though, he was much farther down on the food chain. It was irksome.

They came to the door, which had a large, ornate knocker in the shape of a grotesque gargoyle. Castiel grabbed the metal ring and hammered it against the door three times. The heavy iron reverberated dully through the other side.

Gabriel almost started whistling as they waited for a response, but it was only a few prolonged beats before the door clicked and swung open. A woman with long blond hair and wearing a skimpy dress with jangling jewelry stood on the other side.

"Yes?"

"We're here to see Rowena," Castiel said.

The woman gave them a cursory once-over, then stepped back to allow them entrance. The foyer was just as opulent as the exterior of the house. This Rowena had good tastes. Gabriel roved his gaze over the decor as they were led through a hallway, past some sitting rooms, and finally into what was probably originally a ballroom, but that currently possessed a throne of cushioned royal purple set near the back wall. A petite woman with ravishing red hair lounged upon it, a long maroon dress hugging the curves of her hips. Gabriel couldn't help arching an eyebrow at her.

Castiel huffed under his breath beside him, and Gabriel glanced over in time to see him rolling his eyes.

"Visitors," the blond woman introduced.

Rowena gave them a mildly curious look. "Not many men seek the audience of the Mega Coven," she said with a lilting Scottish accent.

Castiel's jaw ticked. "We were told you're one of the most powerful witches on the planet," he began. "And we require some…unique assistance. We're from an alternate world and need help opening a portal to get back."

Rowena lifted a delicate brow. "An alternate world? How interesting. That would require some powerful magic."

"Can you do it?"

"Of course I can," she replied haughtily. "But why would I want to? I know who you are. And two pet angels will give the Mega Coven enough prestige to rival the Pantheon."

Gabriel almost groaned.  _Again_? Now this was just getting tiresome.

He raised a hand to snap his fingers and explode these pompous witches, but Rowena lowered her head and said a few words in Latin. Chains shot out from behind the throne before Gabriel could react, and cuffs snapped around one wrist, then the other. Sigils flared purple for a brief second, and Gabriel almost doubled over as his grace was locked down tight. Beside him, Castiel staggered in chains and dropped to one knee.

"Mm, that's better," Rowena hummed, and rose lithely from the throne. "Sabine, find some suitable accommodations for them, would you?"

The blond witch nodded and turned sharply on her heel to leave.

Gabriel gave his chains an experimental tug, but this witch  _was_  powerful; he could feel the strength of her magic completely neutralizing his grace. He would have said 'I told you so' to Castiel, except they'd both come in knowing the risks.

It had never sucked so much to be proven right.

Rowena clapped her hands twice, short and sharp, and five other women came into the room to take up guard positions around them.

"Bring that one," Rowena instructed, pointing at Gabriel.

"Hey now," he protested as two of the witches moved forward to grab him by the arms. "You know, everyone's making this big deal about angels being a prize on Earth, but as you can see, we don't have much power cut off from Heaven."

Rowena just gazed at him with a schooled expression as he was hauled forward.

Gabriel craned his neck back to look at Castiel, who seemed to be struggling to rise under the pressure of the sigiled chains, but one of the remaining witches simply planted a heel into his shoulder and shoved him flat to the floor.

And then Gabriel was manhandled out of the throne room and down the hallway into another room. He blinked in surprise at the lavish bedroom with a four poster bed and deep maroon, velvety curtains. There was a wine hutch next to an armoire, which was where Rowena headed. With a flick of her hand, the two escorts released Gabriel and left the room, closing the door behind them.

He looked around warily.

Rowena sipped from her wine glass as she regarded him ruminatively. "Oh, the spells I could do with ingredients like angel blood and feathers," she mused, lips curving upward.

Gabriel stiffened. "Whoa, back the spell train up, Red." He flashed her a debonair smile. "Besides, doesn't look like you need any help in the supreme power department."

She gave him a simpering moue. "Flattery will get you nowhere," she said, but set the wine glass down and canted her head at him. "You are handsome, though. Perhaps you would like to be my consort?"

Gabriel arched a brow. "Well, in that case…" He raised his hands and jangled the chains. "I'm gonna need some more…flexibility."

Rowena smirked. "Do you take me for a fool?" She sniffed disdainfully and picked up her glass again. "Wine?" she offered. "I don't imagine angels need sustenance, but surely you can enjoy certain…delicacies." She tossed a sultry look over her shoulder at him. "I could make this a mutually beneficial arrangement for the two of us."

Gabriel opened his mouth to respond, but then hesitated. "And what about my brother?"

Rowena blinked. "I also didn't take angels for caring about anyone except themselves."

Yeah, Gabriel was getting that. The sad part was…that was the general rule back home, too.

She shrugged and went on, "He's cute, but not my type." Setting the glass down again, Rowena sashayed forward and raised a hand to walk her fingers up his chest seductively. "I can make it worth your while."

Gabriel's jaw tightened, and with great restraint, he reached up to capture her hand and lower it. "Tempting. But I'm not down for a life of slavery, even one in a gilded cage. And I've spent my life letting people down, so now I gotta make it right by trying to get my brother and me home." He quirked a coy smile at her. "Can we make another kind of deal?"

Rowena's expression smoothed into cold detachment, and she stepped back from him. She picked up a bell from the hutch and gave it a small chime. The witches from before entered the room in response.

"Take him back," Rowena said dismissively.

"Come on," Gabriel wheedled. "Can't we talk about this?"

But Rowena ignored him as he was yanked away and escorted back to the throne room. Castiel was where they'd left him, slumped on the floor, but with a fresh cut above one eyebrow that suggested he might have tried to fight back and gotten smacked for it. Gabriel's lips pressed into a thin line as he surveyed his brother for other injuries.

Castiel merely glanced up at him as he was shoved forward so roughly that he landed on his knees. The witches backed away after that, but still maintained a perimeter around them.

Cas flicked a wary look at them before turning back to Gabriel and keeping his voice low. "What did Rowena want with you?"

Gabriel snorted. "What everyone else in this forsaken world wants—angels as power trophies."

Castiel hung his head.

Gabriel surreptitiously roved his gaze around the room, trying to gauge what avenues of escape they might have. They were powerless with the chains, but maybe Cas could pick the locks like he'd done before. Maybe Gabriel should learn that particular trick.

"You can say it," Castiel spoke up softly.

"Say what?"

"That coming here was a stupid idea and has only made things worse."

"We-ell, things are only a little worse, really," Gabriel replied. "And we've gotten out of tough scrapes before."

The large doors out to the garden suddenly opened, and the blond witch from earlier along with some others started carting in on rolling pallets two super sized, antique bird cages. Gabriel's brows rose in disbelief.

"Okay…now things are looking worse."

Heels clacked on the floor as Rowena entered from the opposite side.

"Excellent," she said to the blond. "Before we get our pets situated in their new homes, I want to collect a few feathers for some spells."

Gabriel's spine jerked ramrod straight. No way was he or Cas revealing their wings…but he suspected a witch as powerful as Rowena could find a way to force them with magic. Which would be just as bad as that Kentucky Fried douchenozzle extracting their grace.

Cas's eyes were wide and on the verge of panic as two witches closed in on him to grab his arms and drag him toward the center of the room. Gabriel was hauled over as well and deposited unceremoniously at Rowena's feet.

The red-haired witch tapped her fingers together as she considered them gleefully. Yet before she could start some kind of incantation to manifest their wings, a loud boom reverberated throughout the house. Everyone whipped their gazes toward the sound, and Gabriel thought he heard a distant scream.

A witch came running into the throne room. "We're under attack!"

The words were barely out of her mouth before intruders were pouring in from the outside garden. Gabriel caught flashes of black eyes as the meatsuits attacked the witches. Spells started flying from lips, but these demons were of the stronger variety, and responded with their own powers of deflection and levitation. Screams from both sides rent the air.

The inner doors banged open, and Gabriel's heart lurched as Asmodeus strode in. The demon's eyes immediately found the angels, and his mouth curved into a sneer.

"I've come for what's mine," he announced.

Rowena's shoulders shook as she seethed at him. "I don't see your name on them," she spat.

Asmodeus narrowed his eyes. "I bought and paid for those two, and I'll be taking them back."

His irises swirled into yellow pools as he shot out two fingers toward Rowena. Gabriel launched himself off the floor and tackled her, driving them both to the floor behind the throne, with Gabriel landing on top and their faces a mere breadth's apart.

Rowena arched a brow at him.

Gabriel was distinctly aware of their bodies pressed so close as he shifted to lift his chained arms. "Let us help fight."

Her lips thinned.

Another scream and explosion rocked the air.

Gabriel threw a look over his shoulder to check on Cas, and spotted him trying to scrabble away from the melee. Gabriel whipped his attention back to Rowena. "What's more important to you?" he demanded.

Her eyes flashed with fury, but at another female scream, she shoved Gabriel off and uttered a few words. The sigils flared purple before the cuffs snapped open and fell to the floor. Gabriel's grace flooded back into every crevice and cranny of his vessel, and he leaped to his feet, summoning his angel blade.

Grabbing Rowena's hand, he yanked her up and dragged her along as he darted toward Castiel. Gabriel pushed Rowena down next to Cas and spun to cover them as a demon charged. Gabriel thrust his blade straight through the demon's chest, and a fire of orange light spurted throughout it. These morons hadn't seen an angel in so long, they'd forgotten to fear them.

Gabriel glanced back in time to see Castiel's chains come off. Then the younger angel was on his feet, his own blade dropping from his sleeve into his hand.

Gabriel's mouth quirked with exhilaration. It'd been too long since he'd fought side by side with a brother.

Half of the witches had been decimated, and now the demons converged on the two angels. With a grace and dexterity honed eons ago, Gabriel and Castiel spun and struck as though engaged in a dance. They cut down every demon that dared launch an attack on them.

Gabriel had just finished off one of the last when Castiel suddenly dropped to his hands and knees, doubling over with a pained cry. Gabriel whirled to find Asmodeus standing across the room, forefinger and pinky outstretched.

"Did you think you could get away from me?" he raged.

Gabriel narrowed his eyes and drew his shoulders back. The air crackled with electricity and rustled with the fanning of his wings. His eyes burned hot with angelic essence rising to the surface.

Asmodeus scoffed. "You think you can take me, boy? You're cut off from the might of Heaven. You're weak!"

Cas grunted and fell onto his side.

Gabriel didn't even raise his hand as he let his full power explode with righteous retribution.

Asmodeus jerked, expression shifting to surprise. And then fire erupted from his chest. He threw his head back with a scream and flailed as the flames quickly devoured him, until there was nothing but a puff of ash, and then silence.

"And by the way, that's a stupid suit."

There was a breath of silence, and then the sound of scattering as the few remaining demons fled. Rowena looked up at him with raised eyebrows from where she was crouched on the floor.

A wave of exhaustion crashed over Gabriel, and he swayed slightly. He'd used way more juice than he should have. But it was worth it. Turning around, he carefully lowered himself to the floor next to Castiel and reached out to grasp his brother's shoulder. "You okay?"

Cas nodded, eyes narrowing on him. "Are you?"

"I'll live," he said wearily.

Castiel then threw Rowena a wary look, and Gabriel saw his hand tighten around his angel blade.

Gabriel gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze before turning to the witch. "So, we just saved your coven. Think that buys us a trip back home?"

Rowena regarded him neutrally for a long moment before finally lifting her chin. "Word of your arrival here has spread pretty far, and everyone wants to get their hands on you. It's…probably better for the balance of power if you were not in play."

"So, you will help us get back?" Castiel asked suspiciously.

Rowena shrugged. "There is a spell for it. However…it requires some archangel grace."

Gabriel instinctively tensed. Seriously?

Castiel's jaw visibly tightened, and he flicked an uncertain look at Gabriel.

The archangel sighed. "Yeah, alright. I got some archangel grace."

"Gabriel, you're weak," Castiel tried to protest.

"It's fine, Cas," Gabriel cut him off. "Besides, once we're back home, I can recharge."

Rowena was looking at him with intense interest again, but she didn't make a move to renege on their deal.

"Uh, you got a place I could have some privacy?"

Rowena gestured to the remaining witches to clear the room. "We'll wait outside."

Castiel shot him a hesitant look before reluctantly following the witch out into the garden.

Once alone in the throne room, Gabriel turned the angle of his blade around. This was going to suck.

He lifted it to his neck and made a tentative cut, hissing as the celestial steel cut straight down to expose his true form. He twirled his finger, drawing out some of his grace, and then squeezed his eyes shut and forced as much healing into the slice as he could.

His legs turned to jelly and he almost collapsed. He was utterly drained now. Any attempt to use his powers at this point would probably make him pass out. But they were so close to getting home…it was worth it.

He looked around the throne room until he spotted a cabinet of potions, and went over to pick up an empty vial, which he deposited the grace in. Then he shuffled his way outside.

Castiel's eyes widened when he saw him. "Gabriel!" He hurried over to lend him a supporting arm.

"I'm alright," Gabriel said. He held the vial out to Rowena. "Oh, and, there's a little extra in there. As a thank-you."

Rowena's brows rose a fraction, and then she surged forward and clapped her hands around his face, pulling him in for a kiss. Gabriel automatically snaked an arm around her waist and kissed back, his other hand carding roughly through her red curls.

Only when his lungs twinged did Gabriel pull back, breathless. Rowena's lips curved upward as she smoothed her hair back down. Beside them, Castiel was pointedly looking at his shoes, waves of exasperation wafting off him.

"Look me up in your world," she said.

Gabriel grinned. Maybe he would.

Rowena turned to face the open yard and started saying an incantation. She poured some of the grace into a bowl set on the ground with some other ingredients she must have gathered while Gabriel was busy. Smoke rose in lazy tendrils before there was a snap and crackle of light. The space several feet ahead bent and wavered, a glowing crack forming in the air.

Gabriel exchanged a look with Castiel, feeling a tremor of trepidation that this rift hopefully led to their world, and not another alternate version. Cas squared his jaw and nodded, then took the first step. Gabriel kept pace with him, and together they strode through the portal.

They came out in a wooded area on the edge of a highway, the earth damp after an early morning dew.

Gabriel gave Cas a meaningful look. "So…"

Mouth pressed into a grim line, Castiel fished his phone out of his pocket and hit speed dial. Gabriel listened to it ring once before the line clicked.

"Cas?" a tense voice asked.

Castiel visibly sagged with relief. "Dean."

"Where the hell have you been?" the Winchester demanded. "You can't just go dark like that. We had no idea where you were or if something had happened to you."

Gabriel snatched the phone away. "Hey, lay off. It wasn't his fault. We kinda got thrown into an alternate universe and just now managed to get back."

Dean didn't say anything.

Castiel took the phone back. "It's a long story. But, um, Gabriel can't fly at the moment, and we could use a ride…"

"Where are you?" the hunter immediately asked.

"Um…" Castiel craned his neck back to look at the sky, determining their position in the cosmos. "Nebraska…"

"Never mind, I've got your GPS. We'll be there in three hours."

"Thank you." Castiel disconnected the call. "I suppose we'll just wait here, then."

Gabriel frowned as he surveyed the deserted stretch of highway. Not a diner in sight. He was too exhausted to go walking searching for one, though. He lumbered over to a tree and leaned against it, sliding to the ground. Castiel gave him a commiserative look.

"You truly believe the nephilim won't be evil?" Cas asked softly.

Gabriel angled his gaze up at him. "I believe the kid deserves a chance."

"I want to believe that too…"

Gabriel arched a brow. "Well. Then what do you say we give it a chance? And if it turns out evil…I'll do what needs to be done," he said seriously.

Castiel was silent for a moment, but then slowly nodded.

Gabriel leaned his head back against the tree trunk. He didn't know what lay ahead of them.

But he felt better knowing he and his brother had each other's backs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all, folks. Next Monday and Wednesday I've got two one shots to post.


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